


These are the days it never rains but it pours

by lyllytas



Series: Under Pressure [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Asexual Aziraphale (Good Omens), Comfort, Dating, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Temptation, actually dating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 14:49:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20547938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyllytas/pseuds/lyllytas
Summary: The antichrist never happens.Hastur shows up to send Crowley back to hell.Crowley stalls him by claiming he's tempting an angel, but fails to realize this means he actually has to do some tempting. He's conflicted.Aziraphale has a plan though.





	These are the days it never rains but it pours

**Author's Note:**

> a good bit of this was written in a fit of anxiety while I couldn't sleep. So hopefully it makes sense. Mostly cannon compliant, but the delivering of the antichrist never happens and life continues as normal. There a heavily alluded to scene that was in the script book we were so close to having this scene in the show, I'm utterly devastated it got cut, we were robbed.

The thing is, Crowley is completely and thoroughly soft. He knows he shouldn't be. He's put so much effort into being hard, but he can't be. He can't turn a blind eye to suffering and wrongs. He doesn't really belong in there in hell_._ Yet he had to many questions and doubts to belong in _Heaven_. He hadn't been _obedient_ enough for Heaven and he's not mean enough for Hell.

He likes it here on Earth where he can simply _be_ _kind_ without being judged and there's a very fascinating angel to occupy his time. But being here, it's always tinged with the horrible _Knowledge_ that it could be ripped away at any moment. The facade could crack and he'd be utterly destroyed if they knew how much he lies to them. He is always utterly terrified that the wrong person will see how _kind_ and _soft_ he is and it will be over.

He's selfish and he lies a lot, but he is also the most sympathetic creature. He has his own strict moral compass. He does his work, but he doesn't do _that._ He doesn't feel guilty for taking credit for the repulsive things that humanity comes up with, but if he has to see it for himself then he cries and drinks himself stupid. It's a _wretched_ thing to be; a demon with a heart.

<~>

Hell doesn't check in on him often. They usually let the demon come to them. But when Crowley wakes up in the early 2000s, he feels something decidedly demonic here in his home. Why? He hasn't done anything lately. In fact, they were quite pleased with the whole M25 thing and had left him alone for many years after that. He'd been _hoping_ that something else was distracting them, but it seemed like attention was back on him. Not doing enough evil deeds, he guesses.

Crowley saunters out of his bedroom, looking as sleek and put as always. His hair stylishly tousled to impeccable disorder. His clothes tight as fashionable as ever. He does go without his favorite shades, keeping his eyes so very human like to show he's not scared._ Actually he is very scared_, but he mustn't show it at any cost. After all, demons can smell fear.

“Hassstur.” Crowley hisses when he spots the demon in his office. “What brings a Duke of Hell to my fine abode so _early_ this morning?” He radiates as much calm as he can manage. Hastur is sitting on _his_ throne chair, looking relaxed with his arms resting on _his _desk like he owns it.

“I've gotten word that you're getting too comfortable here, Crowley.” Hastur sits forward in the chair.

“Oh?" Crowley cocks an eyebrow in defiance.

“Getting all _pleasant_ with the enemy.” Hastur's lips twist into a snarl. “Perhaps it's time to send you back down, let someone else take over the job.”

Crowley meets his gaze as his brain goes a million miles an hour. “Yeah, I can see that going real _well_ for you.” He scoffs. “I know how Earth works. And if I'm getting friendly with the other side, you can bet I have a plan.” Crowley yawns and stretches, carelessly turning his back on Hastur to act like he's not afraid.

“Why don't you hang around for a bit," Crowley says nonchalantly. "See for yourself? Times _are_ changing, Hastur,” He lectures. “You've got to go with the flow.” He looks over his shoulder. “Or would you rather stick someone in my shoes who hasn't the slightest clue what humans are doing this day and age _nor_ how to sway them to our side?” He turns back to Hastur, finally finished stretching. “Or how to properly _tempt_ an angel.”

“Crowley.” Hastur says, standing up.

“My way of doing things, _well_ it works.”

“We'll see about your way.” And then Hastur is gone.

<~>

Crowley doesn't breathe a sigh of relief - after all, Hastur's watching him.

No. He goes about his morning as _normally_ as possible. Normal for him that is, watering/shouting at the plants, putting extra fear into them today, and doing his usual demonic actives - if he steps them up a bit, it's only because he's been slacking. That at least will _hopeful_ get Hastur to leave him alone. Around half past three he heads out.

Aziraphale is most likely at the bookstore.

He makes a stop at a shop, the whole time staying calm while he's panicking inside. _This could all be over!_ He know he has got to play it carefully. He only hopes Aziraphale gets the message he's trying to send. He makes his way to the bookstore when he sees a familiar figure up the block.

He smirks and parks the car.

Crowley saunters up to Aziraphale who is standing at by the window of the bakery that has _happened_ to open a secondary location just down the road from his shop. (Crowley got away with this one because Soho was a den of sins, and gluttony was one of them) “You know you want a snack.” He says smoothly into Aziraphale's ear instead of greeting him. “Fresh warm croissants, all flaky and buttery. So light and airy.”

Aziraphale turns to him and rolls his eyes. “Crowley, behave.”

“How about _this_ than?” Crowley offers him the box.

“What's that?” Aziraphale looks at the package with interest but doesn't take it.

“Chocolates for you." Crowley cocks his hip. "Thought I'd bring you a _treat,_ Angel. Your favorite.”

Aziraphale glances down at the box of old fashioned chocolates which are nowhere close to his favorite. Those chocolates are far too bitter, and the angel isn't fond of their texture. Why would Crowley bring him these?

_OH_! These are the same chocolates that Crowley had brought him when Gabriel had been trying to “promote” Aziraphale back to heaven back during the Regency Era.*

_(* Script book.)_

It certainly puts his earlier behavior into a new light. Crowley is being _extra_ demon-y right now and he kicks himself for not having noticed earlier that something was _off._

“You remembered.” Aziraphale says, faking delight to trying to let Crowley know he understands. '_Is_ someone_ from hell here? Are they trying to send Crowley back?'_

Aziraphale can't allow that. He does his best quick thinking. Hell will expect some kind of show and he has to do his hardest to help his friend out like Crowley had done for him in the same situation.

“Don't you want one?” Crowley holds the box out again. “You've been working so hard, surely you should _reward_ yourself. Have a nice snack. Some sweetsss.”

“I have been working hard.” Aziraphale takes the box this time and looks at it like like it holds something far more precious than bits of bitter chocolates.

“You've been working _so_ very hard. If they haven't noticed, I sure have. It's just a little snack. Look at them.” Crowley opens the box lid and waves his hand over the chocolates displaying that it's contents aren't the the chocolate disks with nonpareils that he expects, but his actual favorites – chocolate truffles.

"Oh, you are a _tempter."_ Aziraphale says his eyes lighting up. "Truly _wicked_."

Crowley swallows and grins cheekily. "Oh, do go on _Angel._"

"You've been trying to lead me astray for _ages."_ Aziraphale blinks slowly and then looks at Crowley, hoping it is the right thing to say. He NEEDS to talk to his friend somewhere the demons, wherever they are, can't hear, so that he can figure out what role he needs to play.

"I've been _opening_ your world up." Crowley circles him with that dangerous grin of his, hands moving through the air as he talks.

"Indulgences, gluttony, _greed."_ Aziraphale says as looking down at the truffles like they have answers he seeks.

"And you enjoy all of it." Crowley says, suddenly close. He snakes a hand around Aziraphale's plump waist and squeezes.

"Oh!" Aziraphale gasps at the sudden touch. And Crowley slides back, unsure if he has overstepped. He is _trying_ to give Aziraphale signals and hoping that the angel understands.

"You're playing with fire, _demon."_ Aziraphale says slowly with one eyebrow raised, "tempting an angel."

Crowley circles back in front, trying to keep a calm face. '_What if he doesn't know?' _"All I offer are opportunities, _hardly_ temptations. Nothing I've given you yet has made you Fall, so _surely_ I haven't led you astray." Crowley gestures to the box "It's only chocolate, angel."

Aziraphale studies him. "You would have me _sin?"_

"You're on Earth, _Angel._ Didn't your people nail a guy to a cross? Ya know to forgive sins and all that?" Crowley steps closer.

Aziraphale falters. Or at least he pretends to. Aziraphale would never _really._ He's too devout; too good. Crowley's more probable that Aziraphale knows now. He hopes.

The angel watches Crowley takes one of the chocolates and hold it out to him. “It's _just_ a chocolate. One bite.”

"Is that what you said to Eve, _Serpent?"_ Aziraphale says as he leans forward and brings the chocolate to his mouth, holding on to Crowley's hand. He opens his mouth, expectant.

Crowley's jaw goes slack for a moment. He didn't expect that. He thought Aziraphale would take the chocolate with his hand. And now Aziraphale is standing there holding his hand and looking at him with those wide eyes of his, _waiting._

Crowley wants to melt, or scream, but he has to remind himself that this is a show. Probably. If Aziraphale knows. It's not like the angel would actually _really_ want to do something so _intimate_ with him of all people. But he pops the truffle into Aziraphale's mouth. “See. Only chocolate. No downfall of humanity.” He says as Aziraphale chews and releases his hand.

"Sins and redemption?” Aziraphale says after a moment passes. “This sounds like a conversation we should have wine for. How convenient for us then that I've got a bottle of Shiraz chilling back at the bookstore. Shall we?"

"Angel, are you _tempting_ me?" Crowley smirks at the thought. "Well, lead on then."

The walk back to the bookstore is tense. Crowley tries to stay calm but his brain keeps making plans for if this goes anymore sideways than it has and hopes that their performance was just that, a performance. He can't _stand_ the thought that Aziraphale might think that he was actually trying to be devious and ruin him. He's pretty sure that Aziraphale got his message, but doubt fills his mind as they walk in silence.

<~>

Once they are in the back room Aziraphale turns to him. "This room is guarded. They can't see or hear. Heaven though we should have a safe meeting spot _without_ prying eyes."

Crowley collapses into a chair with relief; his legs going weak. He slides his glasses down and then removes them. "Oh, Aziraphale, I was hoping you _understood_ what was going on! That we were being watched. I didn't mean any of that. He thinks I'm tempting you, that I've got some plot. But I'd never _actually_ say any of that." Crowley breaths hard and fast. He thinks he might be crying, but he isn't paying to much attention to himself right now.

"I know you wouldn't." Aziraphale says comfortingly.

"I would _never_ tempt you." Crowley says desperately. He _needs_ Aziraphale to understand. "Not like that."

"I know." Aziraphale says soothingly as he moves closer. 

"No,” he reaches up to grab Aziraphale's hands to make him _see._ “You're the _only_ person that has ever been nice to me. Demons don't have friends, but I have _you._ And you're so special." he makes a noise low in his throat. "At best, Hastur goes ahead with his plan and reassign me to paperwork in Hell, and at worst, well, I don't want to think about it, but being destroyed from existence would be kinder than living without you.”

He's definitely crying now. The tears spring in his eyes and he pushes off the chair to grab Aziraphale's shoulders. “Tempting an angel is a hell of a lot more acceptable to downstairs than having a _friend._ Do you understand now why I can't let you call me nice or good, or whatever? Anyone might see, and I'm too scared to lose you. You're so _important_ to me.”

"Dear boy, please stop crying. You _won't_ lose me. We'll come up with a way to get you them off your back."

“I don't want you to Fall.” Crowley continues as if Aziraphale hadn't spoken and looks at him so utterly devastated. “Not because of _me_, but they think that's what I'm working on. They expect me to try, or else they'll send me back down below. But I can't do that to you, I won't!”

“6,000 years and I haven't fallen yet, dear boy.” Aziraphale holds onto one of his arms and rests his forehead against Crowley’s. “I don't think you could ever make me Fall.”

"I like your belly.” Crowley closes his eyes and just feels. “I like spending time with you in restaurants. Meeting up with you at plays and galleries, and, and, and Parks! Feeding the ducks.”

“Me too. I like spending time with you too.” Aziraphale wipes the tears off his face. “I'm sorry, I didn't know. All these times I called you nice, I didn't know why you were always so upset. I'm sorry I scared you.” He wraps his arms around Crowley and holds onto him as he cries.

<~>

“Have a seat dear.” Aziraphale guides him back into the chair when he's finally done and pats his hand. “I'll make us some tea. Lots of sugar, just the way you like it and we'll figure this out.”

Crowley allows himself to be coddled, tries to get his emotions under control. The last couple of hours have been terrifying. He was so scared he could barely think, and then there was the possibility that he'd say the wrong thing to Aziraphale. Everything he's been afraid of is so close to happening and the thought of never seeing Aziraphale again is too much.

Aziraphale putters around, making tea the normal human way, humming as he does.

“Here you go.” He says a little while later, offering a mug to Crowley. It's warm and comforting and Crowley looks down at the mug, drinking slowly. They don't usually talk about feelings, not directly. Crowley is glad this whole time this room in the bookstore has been protected from sight. His rambling when they're plastered tends to get very un-demonic like.

Aziraphale pulls the other chair closer and sits down. “Crowley,” He touches the demon's knee to prompt him into talking to see if he's okay.

Crowley sets the mug down. “The problem is, I'm not a very good demon. Or bad demon. Whatever. I don't do it _right._ All suffering and eternal damnation, horns and puss, not my thing. I claim to be evil, but I don't live up to the _standards_ that are expected. Things go wrong on Earth and I always get the credit."

Crowley sighs, picking at his thumb nail. 'Half the time I don't even know what it is I've supposedly done. Wasn't fit to be an Angel either.” He looks at Aziraphale. “I don't belong other other in either place, Heaven or Hell, but _do_ I like it here on Earth, with you. And I don't want to lose that.”

“Crowley, you won't. I promise. I'm not going anywhere."Aziraphale pats his knee. "We'll put on a show, get them to leave you alone.”

“But it's like you said, playing with fire.” Crowley sighs again. “It makes me feel sick. What if I say something _wrong?”_

“You won't.”

Crowley takes his hand, holding onto it like it's a lifeline. “Angel, if we make it out of this scrape, I'll let you practice all your silly “magic” tricks on me without complaining for the next _decade.”_

Aziraphale huffs a little laugh through his nose. “No you won't.”

“Okay, We'll go to get crepes.”

“In France.” Aziraphale insists 

“Yes, _fine._ We'll go to France.”

Aziraphale looks at their hands, which he notices Crowley hasn't dropped yet. “And maybe we'll do this more often.” He tugs gently on Crowley's hand maneuvering so their fingers are laced. “I mean, after all, you _are_ tempting an angel. I mean that's what you'll tell your side, and me, well I'm influencing a demon towards the light.”

Crowley stiffens, feeling the blush creep up his face. “You want to do this more?”

“Hold your hand?” Aziraphale looks uncertain and shy. “Yes.”

_“Oh.” _Crowley clears his throat.

“You mean a lot to me _too,_ dear boy.” Aziraphale reaches for his chin and brushes his thumb along one cheek. “You've tried to reach out to me in the past, but I've been so scared of my own feelings. You move so much _faster_ than me. You're clever and charming. Cool and sophisticated. You're the joy of my life.

“Nkg!” Crowley croaks out. His face burning. “er... same”

“So then, we really don't have to put on much of a show then.”

“Why's that?”

“Well, it's hard to temp someone who's already in love with you.” Aziraphale looks at him fondly.

“Love?” Crowley stutters. He is going to discorporate here on the spot.

“If you were to define it by human standards, I suppose that's the right word.” Aziraphale keeps tracing small circles on to Crowley’s cheek and eventually his hand slides back down to cup his chin. “I won't use that word if you don't want me to. But you matter to me. So very dearly.”

“No! I mean yes! _Er,_ yeah, you can use that word.” Crowley flushes, looking away.

_“Fantastic._ Then I love you very much.”

Crowley brings his hand up to his blushing face, trying to hide.

Aziraphale chuckles a little and pulls on Crowley's wrists. “Oh, my dear. That feels rather nice to say. I _love_ you. I love you. I love you”

“Angel, you're _killing_ me.” Crowley tries to slump down in his seat, feeling like he might forget how to look human.

“You're _adorable." _Aziraphale says. "My sweet little demon.”

“NO.”

“Yes. Absolutely _cute.”_ Aziraphale's eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles at him.

“I have fangs, don't forget!” Crowley huffs as some of his scales show through.

“Yes, you're a _scary_ little danger noodle.”

Crowley looks at him in shock, his transformation stopping and reverting back.. “WHO TAUGHT YOU THAT?” He yelps.

“I do _hear_ things, you know. And I that phrase was particular amusing.” Aziraphale tweaks Crowley's human nose. “And you're amusing too.”

“Right,” Crowley squeaks trying to get back on level ground. “So we just have to go out and make sure Hell thinks I'm tempting you to the dark side.”

“Dark side?” Aziraphale makes a face. “That's an odd way to describe it.”

“How do you know danger noodle and not Star Wars?” Crowley huffs.

“Star Wars? Like from all those centuries ago?”

“Wot no," Crowley says exasperated. "It's a movie.”

“Oh, you know I don't watch that stuff.” Aziraphale waves his hand.

Crowley rolls his eyes. “Didn't you say something about wine?”

“It's not even supper time yet dear.”

“Bah, when has that ever stopped us?" He crosses his arms. "I need wine if we're going to talk about us dating.”

Aziraphale makes the most peculiar expression. “Dating.”

“Is that the wrong word?” Crowley asks nervously.

Aziraphale lets out a radiant smile. “Us. Dating.”

“Erp.” He's not prepared for how happy Aziraphale looks. “Dating yes. Although if you call me your boyfriend I will have very strong words to say about that.” He frowns as he slumps even more in the chair.

“Partner then?

Crowley's face softens. “We've been partners of a sort for ages.”

“Yes, it does suit us. I like the association.” Aziraphale smiles at him again and brings out the wine, pouring them each a glass.

“Now you know, you've got to do your best to act like an angel tempted.”

“And you've got to act like a charming, tempting, demon.”

“Oh angel, I think I've had this dream before.” Crowley takes a sip from his wine glass.

“As long as I don't have to be involved in anything vulgar. I draw the line at that. Keep those dreams to yourself.”

Crowley tenses up. “But I can hold your hand?”

“Yes. Any time. All the time. In fact, why aren't you holding my hand right now?”

Crowley switches his wine glass to his other hand so that he can take Aziraphale's. “There.”

“I can't hide here forever.” He tells Aziraphale “but for a couple hours I should be fine. I hope you're not planning on moving, Angel, cause I'm not letting go now that I've got you.”

“I told you earlier Crowley, I'm not going anywhere.”

**Author's Note:**

> So this will probably be part of a series, I mean, I have to write how Hastur and the others react. I mean. I have like 4 other WIPS, so what's one more?  
Also you can pry Queen songs out of my cold deaf (Yes I said deaf, I lost my hearing like 2 years ago, I totally know Queen) hands.


End file.
